The 57th Hunger Games
by darling.so.dramatic
Summary: 24 tributes, 1 victor. Ones who have trained their whole life for this, helpless children, and an audience cheering on death and sadism. Who will survive? And is winning really the best fate? SYOT (OPEN)
1. Chapter 1

"The Hunger Games! The 57th! Bet on a district, read all about it!" Capitolites's shouts about the new games are heard loud amongst the noisy bustle of the Capitol.

A grin spreads across Eloise's face. It's only a week away from the reaping, and she already has her job secured as the District 1 escort.

"Eloise Croaker, your District 1 escort, bringing you a future victor!" she mumbles under her breath. She passes other Capitolites, waving at her with abnormally long finger nails, or winking at her with strangely colored eyes. She has been the District 1 escort for several years now, and revels in the fact that she's a bit of a celebrity now, having had a victor from her tributes last year. In fact, Moon Leather was a favorite last year, being voted the most handsome tribute yet. The fact that Eloise had ensured his victory, when he wasn't very good at weaponry or survival skills, made her immediately loved, and District 1 very grateful that their new tributes would get such a talented escort.

She dramatically wiped a tear of happiness off her pierced, rosy cheek with a silken handkerchief.

However, she does not have time to dawdle about, or bet for which district would win (although it she knows it is written in the stars for District 1 to win), as she has to get home, so that she can pack and then get on the train to District 1 in order to reap her tributes, and probably get two talented volunteers.

With a smile, Eloise bounds down the street, whistling a small tune.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hello! So, sorry the part above is so short, later chapters will be longer. This is a SYOT and you can submit however many tributes you want, although please try not to submit more than 4, and I would appreciate even less from most people. The form will be here and also in my profile.

Name:

District (top 3):

Gender:

Age:

Height:

Appearance (detailed):

Personality (detailed):

Habits(detailed):

Preferred weapon (1):

Skill with the weapon stated above (from 0-10):

Strengths (max 5):

Weaknesses (min 3):

Fears:

Willingness to kill (from 0-10):

Run or fight at bloodbath:

Likelihood to die at bloodbath (from 0-10):

Family:

Friends:

Poor, middle-class, rich:

Do you have a job:

Background:

Romance:

Reaped/volunteered (reason for volunteering) :

Reaction to reaped/volunteered:

Allies?:

How they act during parade:

How they act during interview:

Opinions on games, government and themselves:

Anything I forgot:

OPTIONAL:

Reaping outfit:

Parade costume:

Interview outfit:

* * *

There will also be a sponsor system. Everyone, whether you submitted a tribute or not, gets 75 points. You get 25 more points per tribute you submitted. You have to PM me with the sponsor gift and who you want it for during any time they're in the arena. Here are the costs for gifts. If I'm missing any items please tell me and I'll probably add it.

**Sponsor gifts:**

Empty canteen (5)

Full canteen (10)

Iodine (5)

Jacket (10)

Socks (2)

Gloves (2)

Winter hat (2)

Sun hat (2)

Blankets and/or sleeping bag (15)

Matches (10)

Firewood (10)

headache pills (5)

Advanced anti-infection drugs (30)

Bandages (15)

Fever medicine (5)

pill to make you unconscious (10)

Rope (5)

Empty backpack (5)

Night-vision glasses (10)

Silverware (10)

Wire (15)

Fishing pole with hook (15)

Pack of fishing bait (5)

District meal-name the district (15)

Capitol meal (17)

Loaf of bread (5)

Large backpack full of food-state types of food you want (25)

Weapons:

Belt of carving knives (15)

Belt of throwing knives (20)

Trident (35)

Long sword (30)

Short sword (30)

Throwing axe (25)

Fighting axe (30)

Bow &amp; arrow (32)

Baton-wood, plastic, metal (25)

1 dagger- you may request several, same price for each (15)

Dart gun-darts put victim to sleep, comes with 10 darts (55)

Mace (35)

Machete (30)

Scythe (20)

Sickle (15)

Slingshot (5)

Spear (30)

Whip (25)

**Note: Every two days in the arena the number of points needed to be spent will go up by 5 for every item. Weapons will go up by 10.**


	2. D12 Reaping

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, this is the district 12 reaping of Courtney "Court" Young (17) by Obviously Entei and Tobias Cole (17) by Obviously Entei.  
As a side-note, for people sending is more tributes (this doesn't apply to Court and Tobias, I really love these two characters), I've got a lot of people that are very skilled at weapons, but aren't from career districts, and a lot of people with really dramatic, horrible, unique backstories. I love those types but they can't all be like that, so heads up** if you're sending in tributes**. It would be good to have some more tributes that aren't that skilled, and then I'll probably like them better and they will live longer (sorry for being biased). Also, basically no one said their tribute was likely to die in the bloodbath, so if I don't get lots of tributes like that I'll probably just kill the tributes I least like. Of course, I do love all the tributes I have now, but still. Check profile for form and which spots are still open! Thank you

* * *

"Up! Up!"

I ignore the shrill voice, and reach to pull my pillow over my head. The thin sack doesn't do much to dim the sound.

"Up now, now, Court, or there will be trouble! Trouble I say! More trouble than can happen on the damn reaping day, get out here!"

"I'm coming!" I squeak. I don't need more trouble today, when for all I know one of my friends or brothers could be sent to their death. I quickly pull myself out of bed and end up in the dining room in a few seconds. There are few rooms in my house, and they are all on one floor, so I could practically reach my hand out and be in the bathroom.

"Sit down, Court, Trenton, Les," a voice shrieks. I pull a chair out and wave at my brothers, who smirk at me.

"Yes, Aunt Joanne," I reply obediently, sitting down. Looking at my plate, I see a small pile of strawberries, a slice of warm bread, and an egging dripping yellow yolk that makes my mouth water. "Mother! How did we get this?" I ask, seeing identical food on my family's plates.

"Well, you know we're not poor," she reminds me, raising her eyebrows.

"Hopefully you won't make us poor," Aunt Joanne mutters, still not thinking before saying. I gulp and start eating quickly, wanting out of the room as soon as possible.

Aunt Joanne sits down with us, tying her graying hair in a ponytail before starting to eat.

"Of course," she says between mouthfuls, "we've got to be careful. We haven't taken tesserae, but Trenton and Les are eligible this year for the first time, so they could be chosen," Aunt Joanne ponders loudly, yolk dribbling from her chin.

"_Joanne_," my mother says dangerously, and I glance down at my food, eating quietly.

"Oh, it's all right, Les and I know we're doomed to our fate of the games," Trenton says in a solemn voice, before Les cracks a smirk.

"Do not say that, Trenton. And it is certainly not funny, Les. Quit fooling, or it won't be tributes that kill you," mother says, sending them a harsh look. I shove the last bite of bread in my mouth and bound up, shouting, "gotta dress!" with crumbs falling to the ground, before slipping into my room.

"That girl has got to learn _manners_," I hear my mother say before snapping my door shut.

Shaking my head, I get my reaping clothes out of my dresser. I don't have the worst clothes, even though I live in the Seam, which is the poorest part of district 12. But my reaping clothes are saved for this dreaded event. Two of our people will be sent to most certainly die. District 12 has only had one victor before, in all past 56 games. District 12 tributes have the worst chance.

I lay my clothes down on my bed and look at them. A cream colored-blouse, a beige skirt, and polished black slip-on shoes.

A tapping noise interrupts my thoughts. Looking around, I don't see anything. The tapping stops, and I shake my head. Suddenly, I hear whispers. "Courtney… Courtney… Court…"

I surely must be going crazy. I whip around to the source of the sound and see a head outside my window.

"Orion!" I groan. Stomping over to the window, I pull it open and demand, "what are you doing out there!"

"Don't mind me, you can get dressed. We all know you wish me in there with you… in your bedroom," he says, slowly licking his lips, and jutting his chin out. My eyes widen at him and then I laugh.

"Shut up, Orion. Go away, I'll meet you later," I promise.

He sighs and winks at me, turning away from the window. "See you later, love, make sure to wear something _good_ to the reaping."

I groan at his sick humor, shut the window, and pull the curtain over it for good measure.

Quickly putting my clothes on, as I've wasted enough time, I stare at myself in my mirror. This year and next are my last reapings. I frown at myself. I'm about average height, not very tall, but not short. I have the regular Seam long, straight, black hair, olive skin, and almost black eyes. I give the mirror a fake smile before turning around and heading towards the front door. There, my two brothers wait for me, alongside my mother with a haughty expression on her face, and my aunt, who looks a little annoyed. We set out towards the square.

Trenton spends the way yapping to Les about the projects he's doing in school. He seems to be the only one getting something out of our horrible district school. Les loudly shouts of a shortcut he's found, and I roll my eyes as Les and Trenton quickly cut through someone's backyard in a different direction from us. Mother doesn't agree with those two's tricks, Aunt Joanne is just so set in her ideas, and I'm avoiding the conflict that would occur if I followed the boys.

We get to the square, and I see Trenton and Les waiting for us. Mother straightens their clothes and hugs them, and Aunt Joanne voices her wish that she won't next see them in the goodbye room. Trenton quips back something I can't hear, as I separate from them to find my friends.

"Court!" I hear, and I turn around to see Phantom, pushing over kids to get to me. "Hey," he says quietly. "You seen Orion or Chance? 'Course I'm the one that could find you," he continues, without stopping for an answer, and puffing up his chest. "Those two-"

"Phantom, Orion checked on me at my house, but I told him to beat it 'cause he's… gross… and I really want to find Chance-" I froze. To my right is Tobias. I stare at him and his friend for a few seconds. She's a girl, and by the looks of it, a couple years younger than him. The girls leans up and quickly kisses Tobias' cheek, before blushing and scurrying away to her section.

"Gotta get pricked, see ya later," I say quickly, before running over for a peacekeeper to take my blood. I shake my head. It's in the past. Tobias doesn't matter, what he did to me doesn't matter…

Even the pricking of my finger doesn't distract me from my thoughts, and I quickly go to the 17-year-old female section.

"Hello, hello, District 12!" the high voice of Nino Neaters, our district escort, is blasted throughout the square. "I'm Nino Neaters, your district escort!"

_Wow, none of us realize you are our district escort after your constant complaining about being stuck with the worst district to escort for five years!_

Nino never ceases to amaze me, either with his stupidity or costumes. Today he has a magenta suit, with a large turquoise feathered tail and two huge green wings attached to the back of his suit. His skin is dyed light blue and he has piercings along his ears, on his cheeks, and on his lip. Must be a new trend, I think with an eye roll.

He then plays the same video as every year, blood and war and other things to scare us into being obedient districts.

"Time for tributes!" he shrills, practically prancing over to the girl's bowl. His blue hand whips up a slip.

"Courtney Young! Where is this _youngl_ girl!" he squeals.

No. No, I'm not reaped. I….

Someone shoves me forward, and I trip forward. Standing up straight, I make my way to the stage, and I place my features in a calm façade. I give Nino a brief smile before crossing my arms in front of my chest, feeling everyone's eyes on me. Crap, I'm done for. One of the two children being sent to most certainly die is me.

"And our boy tribute, Tobias Cole!"

I see his shocked face is the crowd. Tobias is now one of the two children being sent to most certain death. This just got much more interesting. I even sneer viciously at him when he mounts the stage's steps. Let the cameras catch that, and the audience know that Tobias isn't a good person. I'll make sure he doesn't win.


	3. D4 Reaping

**Author's Note:** Hey, this is the district 4 reaping of James Alon (18) and Tiara Alon (15) both submitted by Kristykk11. Please keep sending in tributes and hope you like it! Check out my profile for the form and which tribute spots are still open. xD

* * *

James Alon (18) POV:

I blink, my eyes getting used to my bright room. With a drawn out yawn, I stand up and run my hand through my short hair. My eyes light up instantly, and a plan clicks in my head. I sneak into the hallway, peak into the room beside mine, see my sister in front of her mirror, tying her identical, but longer, golden blonde strands of hair in a ponytail. I slip into her room, slowly creeping up behind her.

Her scream rips through her throat after I yell in her ear, and then fall to the ground laughing. She gives me a disapproving look. Reaching up, I pull the hair band out of her hair.

"C'mon, let your hair down, it's the reaping day!" I exclaim, throwing the band to the other side of the room, and plopping down on her bed.

She smiles sweetly at me, and then shoots her hand out to ruffle my hair. I catch her arm, grinning.

"You see, it's those types of reflexes that'll help you win the games. Helped me, for sure," says a deep voice from the door. I don't even have to look to know it's my brother with his profuse arrogance.

I roll my eyes and bound up to him, and he wraps his arm protectively around my shoulders.

"Shove off," I laugh at him, slipping out from under his grasp to leave the room.

"Hey, d'you want to train more this morning?" he shouts after me,

"Aiden, it's reaping day, we're not gonna get more out of training this morning. Please?" I peak at her from above Aiden's shoulder, and she's giving him her infamous innocent pout. I wink at her, knowing no one can resist it.

"Besides, we don't need it, me and Tiara can both throw a spear from a hundred meters away with our eyes closed, heck, even asleep!" I input, smirking at him.

"That's the kind of arrogance that get's someone killed," Aiden replies.

_Sure… if that was true, he'd be dead._

Shaking my head, I jog back to my room to finish getting ready.

Tiara Alon (15) POV:

We make our way down the street, our aunt, uncle, and cousins joining us. Taking a route to avoid the ocean, soon we're nearing the town square. My eyes sweep over the crowds of families streaming into the square. A few kids are crying, and some foolhardy boys are boasting of how they won't even be scared if they're reaped, since they've been training from way before they could talk. The salty smell of the ocean lingers in the air.

I look around, but don't see my friends. I know I'll see them later, though, we have all planned to meet up, so I wave at a few acquantices we walk past and smile silently at the sidewalk.

James leads me inside the square and he reluctantly leaves me so that we can get pricked. The peacekeeper takes my blood and then sends me off, and seeing neither James or my close friends nearby, I make my own way towards the 15-year-old female section. After chatting a bit with those near me, a clapping sound grabs my attention. On the stage, our escort stands at the microphone, clapping her porcelain white hands in an obnoxious manner to get the district's attention.

"Ah! I'm Victoria Heliocentricity, and, well, well, it's time for the annual reaping of District 4! Who's excited?" she asks. Most give a small polite clap, but a rare few cheer (as we are, _technically_, a career district).

"Wonderful! Now, time for the special video about our wonderful country, Panem!" she cries out, doing a dramatic twirl to gesture at a large screen behind her. Sweeping herself to the side, having to hold the ruffles of her golden gown in order to, a video of war and Panem being created plays, as it does every year. It's not very interesting, so I smooth down my dress. Aiden recently bought it, and the red silky fabric, with the white lace on the collar, accentuates my features nicely. I pause, and smile back up at the stage.

"Well, that was wonderful, wonderful, flusters me every time!" Victoria squeals, now waving a large, golden fan in her face, sending her equally golden hair blowing behind her.

"Time to reap the lucky female, who will hopefully bring victory to this wonderful district!" Victoria prances over to the female bowl, and lowers one perfectly manicured hand into the bowl. Swishing around the slips of papers, she plucks one out and holds it close to her golden lips. Her eyes register the name and everyone in the district holds their breath as one.

"Tiara Alon!"

Those two words leaving golden, sparkled lips seal my fate. I pause. No… it can't be. Tiara Alon is my name. I start walking to the stage, my face scrunched in confusion.

The back of my throat makes a strangled noise, stopping myself from dragging my feet to the stage. I can't be going into the games.

But I am. I take a few more hesitant steps forward. It quickly turns into a stride. I keep my composure. I cannot look frightened in front of the cameras. My indifferent facade slips for a moment, and a frown takes over. I shake my head, ridding myself of all thoughts. Soon I mount the stage and stand next to the escort. I breath a sigh, knowing all will be alright. Don't worry, I tell myself. Aiden survived it. Why can't I? Everyone thinks I'm this innocent little girl, but I could kill. Aiden trained me incase this happened.

"Now, for the lucky boy to join this brilliant girl, we have-"

A booming shout of "I VOLUNTEER!" interrupts Victoria in the middle of her reading the male tribute's name, and my eyes flick to the boy heading towards the stage with a hard look. Before my eyes even land on him, I know who it is. My brother. James.

"Oh, how lucky we are, a volunteer, so, what's your name boy?" Victoria squeals.

He glares at her and wraps a protective arm around my shoulders as soon as he reaches me on the stage, but I can't stop searching his face in a panic. Only one of us can win now. Before I could have _maybe_ won and come back to him, but now I know he'll make sure I win. So _he _will die. Or we could _both_ die.

"James Alon," he mutters darkly at her.

"Oh, you two must be siblings. How exciting!" she practically sings, fanning herself increasingly faster. James only growls at her in annoyance, and she takes a few steps away from him in a hurry. "There you have it, your two tributes, Tiara and James Alon!"

The sound of clapping from our district is drowned out by the voice inside my head yelling that only one of us can survive. Even if I do win, it won't be worth it.


	4. D5 Reaping

**Author's Note: **hey guys, sorry for not updating in so long. I went back to school from break and I immediately had a dozen or more tests, projects, work, and other stressful things outside of school. Okay, you guys probably just want the chapter and not this long story so I'll cut to the chase. Here's the District 5 reaping of Noah Galvin submitted by david12341 and Haley Apollo submitted by DaughterofApollo7. Hope you enjoy, please leave a review, and again, sorry for not updating soon. And a quick shout out to MCR music for keeping me awake so that I could write this :') _Also Noah's thing isn't too long but I'll be doing chapters of the good-byes and I'm going to make his really long because I have some ideas so hopefully that's okay! :)_

* * *

Haley Apollo (12) POV:

I wake up to my mother pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Hey, mom," I say drowsily, smiling at her wrinkled face through blurry eyes. Rubbing my eyes, I feel two strong arms encompass my torso in a hug. I sit up and wrap one arm around her quickly, before sighing. "I better get up for... you know..." I suggest, seeing her face slowly becoming uncomfortable. Mother is still upset over her brother's death in the games. But, of course, I won't be reaped. That would just be too much of a coincidence to have two people in our family reaped. So I just send her a bright smile and bound up, collecting my reaping outfit from all the different places in my room that I left them.

After getting my shirt from under the carpet, my skirt from atop the dresser, and my shoes from under my bed, I quickly dress and mother stares at me with a tiny smile.

"Here, let me," she says, taking the prickly brush from my hands and sitting me down. She does her best in bringing the bristles through my inky black hair, and then stares at me. Sapphire eyes meet azure eyes and she puts a warm hand on my freckled cheek.

"Mother, I'll be fine," I protest with a laugh, pulling away. "If I'm reaped and win then we'll have money and we can run a power plant like you-know-who does now," I say lightheartedly, and mother frowns, thinking of her former husband and my 'father'. Not like I think of him as that.

She rolls her eyes and grins at me, despite the hint of sadness in her eyes. She's unable to reply, her throat closed off with nervousness. We link arms and leave our 'house,' well, it's more of a tiny hut or shack.

Soon we're in the district square and separating. Her arms engulf me for a second time and she presses her chapped lips to my forehead, promising me that I will not be reaped.

Grinning at her, I make my way to the peacekeepers who take our blood. I can't stop myself from wincing when they prick my finger, but it's only a few moments pain, and I take a few breaths to calm myself down.

Smiling brightly at the peacekeeper, who doesn't spare me a glance, I look around and see a familiar figure in the distance, already in the 12-year-old female section.

"DAKOTA!" I yell as I run over to my best friend. She spins around and stares at me, with her familiar eyes that always look from one thing to another with faster speed than possible. Her large mane of curly red hair bounces up and down as she waves at me, jumping up and down.

Quickly, I get over to her and she pounces on me, smiling with her buck-toothed grin. "Did you see the-" Dakota tries to say, but is interrupted by a group of girls near me.

"Hey, Zero-Feet!" one of them yells at me, jumping up and down to imitate Dakota.

Dakota opens her mouth to yell at her, but I elbow her stomach with a grin. I really don't care that they say those things. No, I'm not zero feet, I'm a bit above four feet, so they're wrong, and it's funny how stupid they are. Dakota shouldn't waste her breath on them. One day they'll be reaped and get what's coming to them.

"Hey, Zero-Feet is a freak, you'll be reaped and dead in less than a week!" another one of the girls yelled at me.

Dakota looks ready to jump at them and attack, but the ringing of someone tapping the microphone interrupts us.

"Time for the reaping!" a nasally voice yells to us, and Dakota angrily shrinks back to her spot standing next to me.

The group of girls stick their tongues at us and we roll our eyes in response.

The war video starts playing and I divert my eyes, disgusted and scared by both the images playing and the fact that our escort, Miss Sunshine, is smiling broadly at the video with sharp, golden teeth. Soon the gruesome images end and Miss Sunshine waves jerkily at the district with claw-like hands.

"Our District 5 girl tribute is about to be selected!" the woman snarls at us, her nose flaring. "CLAP!" she almost demands as she skips over to the glass bowl.

"Her parents definitely do not know the meaning of 'sunshine,'" Dakota whispers to me, and I giggle loudly in response.

There is a smattering of applause, but most just stare at her distastefully. She picks out a slip of paper and brings the micophone up to her face, practically shoving it into her mouth.

"The girl tribute of this wonderful district," the woman says sarcastically, "is Haley Apollo. Woo-"

I don't hear the rest of her sentence. My mind blanks out and I can feel the ground beneath me caving in, or maybe it's my knees buckling, or maybe it's my stomach dropping to the floor, but for a second everything goes black. I register a pair of arms catching me and a few snickers, and a snide voice hissing, "told you so! Good-bye Zero!"

My eyes go back into focus and everyone's eyes are on me, except Miss Sunshine's, which are still searching the crowd.

"Hello, anyone named Haley Apollo out there, or is this girl deaf?" rings in my ears, and I see the escort's lips moving after a few seconds, but nothing is in sync.

Two hands grab my arm and pull me forward, their nails digging into my skin. I blink stupidly at her and see that it's the girl that called me zero feet, and she pulled me out of Dakota's arms. The two are arguing, but another girl pushes me. I fall over and look up and around me. I fell out of my section, and I'm sprawled on the ground in the path that leads up to the stage.

My mouth falls open and I jump up, smoothing my clothes down. With hurried steps, I try to get right to the stage. But, I stop several times, my breathing becoming uneven and my eyes tearing up, while my heart seems too heavy.

When I finally reach the stage, a peacekeeper pushes me to the right side of Sunshine.

She grins at me, her unnatural yellow eyes glinting with an evil look, and she wraps one deathly skinny arm around my shoulders.

"Here's the girl," she yells in a high voice, and adds quietly into my ear, "hopefully you won't trip and feint in the games, girly." A shiver runs up my spine as she picks out a male name.

"And the lucky boy to join this... _fine_ _lady_... would be..."

I bite my lip, feeling extra bad for whoever will be called. Not only will he most likely die, he'll be spending some of his last days with this vulture of a woman.

I pause, trying to keep myself from thinking that _I_ will die. I hear crying in the back of my head, and I'm sure it's my mother, but as I stare at the crowd my vision blurs with tears that end up freely streaming heavily down my freckled cheeks, and I don't have the heart to find her broken face.

"Noah Galvin!" she yells and searches the crowd with sharp eyes, like a predator looking for her prey, and her nails create creases in my shoulder as the sharp tips pierce my skin. I whimper and pull away, my face crumpling from pain.

Noah Galvin (15) POV:

My eyes widen immediately. All I can do is register that she said my name. Noah Galvin. The back of my throat makes a gurgling noise and my head whips to find Celinia somewhere. Her deep blue eyes can tell me this was a joke. That me and her can go off later today to get in some trouble.

But it would be impossible to find her in all of this, and I need to get over this shock and impress the Capitol. I put a bright, false smile on my face, and start to jog up to the stage. I spare a small glance at the girl already reaped, who is cowering behind the escort, her face soaked in tears. I give her a small, reassuring smile, and make a mental note to myself to make sure I look out for her.

I give the cameras several waves and a few cheesy grins, before searching the audience.

My eyes quickly meet Celinia's and she's staring at me tearfully, her mouth hanging open. She looks more shocked and upset than me. She still looks beautiful. I snap myself out of my thoughts and am able to find Barbara, who keeps on swallowing and running her hand in her hair, trying to keep her face straight.

I can't find Elysia or Jack or my parents, but I know they're in the back with the rest of family. I can imagine their teary faces, their cries, while family around them stands awkwardly, because they're glad that their children are safe, but feel bad that my family's child is soon to be dead.

I keep my fake smile plastered to my face and take deep breathes, thinking about how in the games I'll have to maintain this happy face throughout it all. If I do survive, I'll be more depressed than I ever was before, and I never thought that possible.

* * *

**IMPORTANT**: Hello ok so someone reserved the district 9 male but I can't remember who can you PM me if that was you sorry thanks :3


	5. D7 Reaping

**Author's Note: **Hey guys this is the district 7 reaping of Cecelia DeValent submitted by AlisonBlock and William McGarrigle submitted by President Snowflake. Sorry for being such a slow updater, I've got a lot going on and not a lot of free time, and I might be without wifi for a week or so after this, so I really pushed myself to get this out today. But hope you enjoy the chapter :) Also if you reserved the district 9 male please PM me :)

* * *

Cecelia DeValent (16) POV:

"Mother, I need that," I say pleadingly, staring at the shiny ring inside the glass case.

"You have your necklace," she protests, and indeed, I am twirling around my golden locket, but I try again.

"Mother," I say indignantly, and she sighs as she gets out the money to pay for it.

After a few minutes of her bargaining with the seller, I slip the ring over my index finger. "Thank you so much," I say sweetly, before turning around and covering my mouth and giggle. I can still remember the time when I had to hold my breath until I got what I wanted. I had that perfected.

Rolling my eyes, I drift away from my mother to find my friends. Heather is the first I see, and she gives me a tight hug. After letting go, I smooth down my salmon colored short dress, and tap my shiny slip on shoes on the ground. Meanwhile, Heather starts complaining of her hunger, so we walk down to the cafe at the market and approach the gnarly woman that works there. I whisper in Heather's ear that it shouldn't be allowed for someone to go out in such horrid clothes as this woman wears, with her baggy ripped dress that hangs loosely on her twig-like limbs. Heather laughs loudly and swings an arm through mine, and we both order scones and tea with extra honey. The woman bustles about, and Heather and I exchange more insults about the woman.

"Here you are," the woman says, handing us both two bags with scones and plastic containers with the tea. I throw the money on the counter and turn to walk away.

"W-would you like to leave a tip, miss?" the woman splutters out, gesturing towards a dusty, cracked, glass jar. Heather and I glance at each other and then scoff.

"No thanks," I reply, flicking my hair behind my shoulder before walking away.

"Today is reaping day! Bad karma today for you!" the woman yells after us, and I giggle as we walk away.

"Aren't you the least bit worried, Cece? I mean, I'm 20, so I can't be reaped, but you and the others..." Heather begins, but I interrupt her.

"We're not going to be reaped, obviously. I mean, I'm wealthy and took no tesserae. Some log lifters and tree cutters who work on my mother's land will get reaped like always. For me it's another day to dress up and impress," I assure her. The games don't matter to me. Two nobody's get reaped every year and I barely pay attention when the games are played.

She nods her head and in the distance I see our other friends, Tracie, Richelle, and Lyanna.

We call out to them and they jog over to us.

I scan my eyes over them and nod my head approvingly. "Oh, Tracie, take your hair out of the braid, it looks much better down," I tell her, and she quickly follows suit, grinning at me appreciateively. I glance at Lyanna's arm and remark, "that bracelet's pretty chunky, Lyanna, don't you think?"

She narrows her eyes at me and retorts in a growl, "it belonged to my great grandmother."

"Oh, great, vintage," I scoff back but drop it. She'll feel the consequences of not listening to my tips.

I ignore Richelle who stands there, staring around blankly, and strut in front of the girls, motioning for them to folow me into the square. I enjoy the attention we recieve as the most popular and rich girls in the district, plus the boys staring at my new dress and how it accentuates the features of my body. I may not live in the Capitol, or District 1, but I take pride in my looks and clothing.

Heather says goodbye and I flounce over to the peacekeepers to get my finger pricked, and then join my friends in the 16-year-old girls section. We chat loudly, waiting for our escort to announce her presence with her dreadful shrieking voice as she does every year.

That shrieking voice interrupts our conversation about my mother buying more forest land, and I look up annoyed at our escort.

"Hello, I'm Faige!" she hollers, her voice reverberating around the square. "Your escort!"

She then plays the war video, but it's hard to chat with my friends because Faige is giving commentary along with the video.

The video finally ends and I wait impatiently for her to choose two names so we can leave and go back to my house.

"We're picking the girl tribue now!" Faige announces as she searches through the glass bowl. "And we're picking... and we're picking... we're choosing a girl... and we're reading the name... and the girl tribute is-" Faige dramatically screeches, and I can feel everyone around me holding their breath, but I'm studying my new ring.

"Cecelia DeValent! Our female tribute is... Cecelia DeValent!"

My head shoots up and I stare up at Faige, my mouth falling open slowly.

I blink and quickly close my mouth, putting on a straight, blank face. I confidently go up to the stage, not slouching or showing any emotion.

I am reaped. The games didn't matter before. But now they do. And now I need to win. I'll do anything to win. And I know I will win.

William McGarrigle (16) POV:

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and thrusted the pike pole forward, trying to quickly complete the morning's job. I needed to work for the money, even though today is the reaping day, and I would rather spend more time with my family and friends.

My thoughts drift away when suddenly something heavy jams into my side. I fall over, and see Jonesy, my brother, standing above me.

"And what was that for?" I ask, springing up wiping down my pants.

"The boys and I were chopping trees, that branch almost hit you when falling, I pushed you out of the way though, you're welcome," he boasts, puffing his chest up.

My eyes flit to the small branch a good deal of feet away, and then back to Jonesy's grinning face. "Thanks for saving me, my dear hero," I humor him sarcastically, inwardly groaning at being the damsel in distress again.

"Anything for my baby bro!" he chuckles loudly, before swinging his large axe off his shoulder and hitting it against the tree he's been working on.

"I'm only two minutes younger," I mumble before getting back to log-driving.

After a few prolonged moments of silence Jonesy starts talking again, being the outspoken brother of mine.

"Why don't you join the choppers? It'll build up your muscles," Jonesy comments, and I can feel his searching eyes inspecting my little muscles in comparison to him.

I lightly move over, nimble on my feet, and answer, "Nah, I like this." I smile slightly at myself, moving easily about, and I know log-driving is not technically a dance, but it does feels like it, and it has definitely made me more lithe. On the other hand, although Jonesy is my twin brother, with the same messy curly, sandy blonde hair, large powder blue eyes, a smattering of freckles all over our faces and body, and our tallness, he's much more bulky, with large muscles in his forearms and toned legs, as well as a more defined face, in comparison to my chubby cheeks and dimples.

A sharp whistle interrupts our thoughts and other workers all around us drop out of the trees that weren't being chopped, homemade wooden whistles tied around their necks.

"Time to go home and prepare for the reaping!" a tall, gangly boy with a whistle shouts at everyone. Jonesy and I gather together and head on home, waving at whoever we recognize, which is a lot because we know most of the kids in the district, having worked with them in the woods since we were young, and we stop every so often to accept the wishes of luck by adults who don't have their own children to fret over on reaping day.

Soon Jonesy and I have cut through the dirt paths, made our way around the long line of workers stepping in synchronization to leave the woods, and have arrived in our small house nearby.

Mother beckons us inside and chides Jonesy after he tells the story of saving me. He exaggerates the sotry, pretending as if he saved me in a split second from being crushed by the branch. Mother nags him that he and the other choppers should be more careful about making sure they don't drop branches on others, and she prods him to find out if he got into any more trouble. I assure her that it's fine and he didn't do anything else, and she sends me a warm smile before handing us both thin, dark green, cotton, button up coats to put over our thin black shirts. We slip them over, and I button it up all the way, and smooth down my trousers, but Jonesy leaves it unbuttoned. Mother fusses over him, trying to get him to button it, and I sit on our stiff living room chair, patiently waiting for them to finish.

They are still at it, but father enters the room, barks that Jonesy should hurry up and button his jacket or we'll be late, and with a roll of his eyes Jonesy follows the order.

I follow meekly after my marching father, fretting mother, and striding brother, trying to flatten my hair down with my worn, calloused hands. My hair continues to stick up at all angles like always, however, so I let it be. Soon we pass most of the worker's houses and our small local school I attend, and reach the main road, this one not a worn dirt road like I'm used to, but a brick one that get's cleaner the closer we get to the main square.

To get to the main square where the reaping takes place we have to pass through the rich part of the town, where booths are set up with items and small cafes are selling food that only the rich can afford. Mother and father are walking ahead, but Jonesy and I lag behind to stare at the wonders the booths hold, such as steaming, hot drinks and fancy, decorated pastries, or gold jewelry glinting through the cases.

I pass a group of boys who look like they never have been in the woods, or near anything dirty at all. One of them is clad in a spotless suit, with slicked back hair and as he walks his pocket jingles with coins. All these boy's parents probably own land I've toiled on before, and they bask in the most riches someone from a poor district like District 7 could have, besides for the few past Victors of my district, but they probably have never climbed a tree or chopped one or worked once in their life.

"Hey, what're you staring at?" the boy with the suit yells at me, and I quickly divert my eyes, and mumble a sorry. I'm glad that Jonesy is several feet away, distracted by a booth selling spotless silver plates and cups, unlike our own tarnished set.

"Hey, he looks like a worker! Scared boy must work for us, huh?" one of them chuckles to the other.

"Think he's a chopper?" another asks, and out of the corner of my eye I see him surveying me.

"Him? With those tiny muscles? Hickory could be a chopper before he could!" the original boy in the suit shouts, and who I assume to be Hickory, who's a smaller, younger boy with a pale, pointed face and freckles, protests indignantly about how he is strong.

I let their comments slide over my head and smile brightly as my parents bother Jonesy to stop dawdling about, and I follow all of them. Soon we've reached the main square, and our parents kiss both of our cheeks quickly. Mother and father remind Jonesy to not do anything reckless or mess with the peacekeepers, and they hug me tightly, and then they're off to join the other family members and everyone else not eligible for the reaping in the back section.

"Hey, guys," someone says behind us, and I quickly recognize the voice. Before I even turn around Jonesy has brought Natalia into a firm kiss, and I feel a small pang deep in my stomach, and an itch of jealousy creeping throughout me. But I push down the feeling and face the rest of our close group of friends.

Olive stands to the side, her hand on her hip, surveying the square with lips drawn into a tight line and narrowed eyes. Bonnie is slightly to the side of the group, leaning on another boy like always and twirling a strand of hair around, flirting with two other boys, who stare at her with yearning. She's like this with every boy, even with Jonesy before he got with Natalia, but she and I never had a fling. Contrary to what others think, I don't mind.

After Natalia and Jonesy pull away from each other's embrace Xander swings his arm over Jonesy's shoulders, discussing some pranks on peacekeepers he'd like to do but can't because his mother would have his hide for it.

Kidren stands straight, in a new suit that he rebelliously has his tie slung around his neck, instead of tied properly, and fancy cuffs on his sleeves rolled up to his forearm. He politely compliments Olive on her dress, and she begrudgingly accepts the compliment, but I can tell she secretly appreciates it deep down. Olive continues to poke fun at Kidren's appearance and his fancy clothes, asking him where the rest of his rich kids gang is with their ownership rights to their parents hundreds of acres of land. Kidren merely grins brightly at her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, and says cheerily, "you know you guys are my gang!" before ruffling up her hair. Jonesy cackles at Olive's hard look, and she storms off to get signed in and pricked,

"That was perfect! Ah, but we all know Olive still loves you and us, rich-boy," Xander grins, teasing Kidren more. All of us follow after Olive to get pricked ourselves, but Carlos comes up from behind and taps me as we wait in line. My huge, silent friend grins at me, his towering height slightly intimidating to others around. Carlos and I chat lightly, get pricked, and then continue to follow the rest of our gang to the 16-year-old section.

Kidren politely talks with Carlos and I, since the rest of the gang isn't very close with Carlos. Kidren, although he doesn't like the wealthy people of the district, has followed how his parents have brought him up to be a respectable, kind boy, so although Carlos doesn't answer with much when talking, Kidren still tries.

Soon everyone has arrived, and Jonesy stops reaching up to wave to Natalia in the 16-year-old female section, since our escort is announcing herself and playing the war video. I sigh as I watch the same video as every year, and the war and pain being shown wears down hard on my usually cheery heart. I shake off the feeling as the video ends and the screen goes back to showing our escort, Faige, with her huge mountain of fluffy, pink hair bobbing on her large head as she shrieks excitedly.

"We're picking the girl tribue now! And we're picking... and we're picking... we're choosing a girl... and we're reading the name... and the girl tribute is- Cecelia DeValent! Our female tribute is... Cecelia DeValent!"

My eyebrows shoot up because I recognize the name. She's probably the richest girl in the district, besides for the mayor's daughter, but that girl doesn't flaunt her riches like _Cecelia DeValent_. Cecelia practically gave herself the nickname the 'It Girl' and 'Queen Bee' of the district. She likes to flaunt her riches, flaunt her looks, flaunt her power over others, flaunt her popularity, and flaunt anything else she possibly can.

She probably was not expecting this. I know for certain she didn't even take tesserae.

I search the crowd for her, and see that she is quickly exiting her section, the same section as Natalia, Bonnie, and Olive.

She walks confidently, standing straight and slightly proud looking, like I thought she would, and that she would successfully pull off. If she wasn't such a nasty, manipulative girl I would definitely be attracted to her. Her flawless, unblemished heart shaped face is framed by bouncing, golden, curled hair, her big doe eyes are bright blue and sparkle with a certain charm, her slender body moves with grace, and she wears the most fitting clothes.

I can tell that all around me boys are staring at her with a yearning, and I know that for sure she'll be a hit in the Capitol. She'll have sponsors lining up, begging to sponsor her, I bet.

When she reaches the stage I inspect her face, but it shows no emotion. There's a scattered, light applause for her, from her many admirers I would assume, or maybe the people she's bullied clapping because they're happy she could be sent off to her death. Even though I don't like her, I wouldn't want her dead, however.

"Oh goody! Now, our boy tribute!" Faige shrieks, diving her hand into the boy's bowl.

I cross my fingers, wishing and wishing for luck. Natalia, Bonnie, and Olive are safe this year. But now I'm not only praying for myself. I'm praying for Jonesy, and Xander, and Kidren, and Carlos, and myself.

"Our boy tribute is...William McGarrigle!"

I feel shock immediately, and fear courses through me. I glance up at the stage, and then my brother. Jonesy is opening his mouth, and I know what he's going to do. He's going to volunteer. For a split second, I think, why not let him volunteer? But then I realize what I just thought, and know that I can't let that happen. I can't believe I even had that thought. I know I have problems with him sometimes, but he can't throw away his life for me.

Jonesy is pushing in front of me, but I muster all of my strength before he can shout that he volunteers, and I shove him to the side. He trips and falls down, but quickly gets up and barrels towards me, hellbent on volunteering. But, by then I'm already in the path leading towards the stage, and I raise my hand in the air, jogging towards the stage and leaving Jonesy behind. He stares at me from behind, stricken with fear. He can't protect his baby brother in the games.

"I'm here. I'm William," I announce, lowering my hand as I mount the stage. I send Jonesy a hard look, conveying to him to not volunteer. He keeps him mouth shut, and I face Faige, a million emotions coursing through me.

"Very nice! Cecelia and William, our two District 7 tributes!" she shouts, grabbing one of each of our hands, and lifting them up in the air in glory. Cecelia smiles charmingly at the cameras, but all I can do is blink in shock and cringe as the bright spotlights shine upon us and blind my eyes.

And then it settles in. I am a tribute going into the 57th Hunger Games. A fight to the death.


	6. D6 Reaping

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! Here's the district 6 reaping of Miles Hatch submitted by Depth of Hades and Vienna Star submitted by david12341 you like it and also remember that I always appreciate reviews! :D Also to Depth of Hades I hope it's okay that I improvised Hermes a little because you didn't tell me much about him. Also the **District 9 male is open again** because no one PM's me about reserving it so I probably made a mistake reserving it when no one did, so feel free to submit that tribute :)

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Vienna Star (13) POV:

I stare into my mirror, scrutinizing my small figure. Even with the wealth that comes with my parent's ownership of one of the main transportation company of District 6, I know of my slightly malnourished look. From my pale skin, to my flimsy limbs and thin structure, my height never surpassing five feet, and my stringy, mousy black hair, and and plain brown eyes, I could be from the poor part of the district.

But I'm lucky to have this dress I'm wearing, and these heels, I think with a smile, spinning around in the long, light blue dress, and balancing on the shiny white heels that I've somehow mastered not falling over when wearing them.

I wish everybody could be as fortunate as my family and I. I wish the Capitol shared their wealth. I wish they would just go away and let all of us be happy. But that won't happen, so I lift my chin up and grin at the mirror, before springing to the door and throwing it open. I bound down the halls, calling to my parents that I'm ready. My mother meets me in the hallway, and brings me under her arm in a tight embrace.

My father joins us from his office and he encompasses us both in a hug, and then I skip in front of them, nimbly jumping down the front steps, to the lawn. Mother and father join me, and I glance back at our house. I can only hope that I'll see it again today. But I know I will not be reaped. Optimism is really what keeps me going.

We set off down the road, passing the stations we oversee which workers usually are bustling in, fixing trains and building cars and designing planes that people here will never be able to own or use themselves. It all goes to the Capitol. All of the workers are not there, however, because everyone must go the reapings. Where two of our children every year are taken from us and killed.

On the way we stop a few times as mother and father talk to a few old friends, and I stare shyly at my shoes, wringing my hands. Mother tries to help me join the conversation a few times, but it's no use. Like always, father looks a bit worried that I'll be too shy to do a good job taking over the company when I'm older, but I can tell that he's sincerely trying to not mind it today, since it is reaping day after all.

We finally reach the District Square, where the road leads to a large stage set up by the Justice Building, where the tributes say goodbye to their family and friends.

Near the back of the square is a section roped off where people not aged 12 to 18 stand and watch, and nearby are the tables where you get pricked and signed it. Mother and father both hug me tightly, and then walk to the back section to talk with the smaller company owners.

I scour the square and notice my two best friends, Gia and Sky, standing in line to get checked in, so I walk over to them, stepping carefully to not bother anyone I pass. But, once I get to them, I engulf both of them in a huge hug. We laugh and try to detangle ourselves and pull ourselves out of the hug, as we've become twisted around each other. Gia lets out a loud, barking laughter, and swings her arms around both of our shoulders.

Gia leans towards me and whispers with her eyes dancing, "hey, Vienna, thank god you're here. Sky is worried out of her mind. _Help me."_

I grin at her and then Sky, and begin to assure Sky that she'll be alright.

"Don't worry, Sky. It's your first reaping, I know, that makes it scarier, but you have your name in less times," I remind her, ruffling her hair.

"Ya, but I took tesserae," she reminds me with a frown, biting her lip and staring at the ground.

"Oh, it'll be already, Sky, lighten up. There's thousands of people here, you're not gonna get chosen. Besides, if you are, Vienna and I are both rich, we can give you a district sponsor gift!" Gia laughs out, and moves forward to the peacekeeper, as it's her turn to be pricked.

Gia's words do little to cheer Sky up, so I continue giving encouragements to her. When it's Sky's turn to get pricked, she shyly turns away from the peacekeeper and offers her hand, so he can take her blood. When he does, she squeals loudly, and afterwards dashes away to the 12-year-old section, her head bobbing up and down, staring down at the ground and avoiding eye contact with others. She's even more shy than I am.

The peacekeeper takes my blood next, and I gulp loudly and wince as he pricks me. I walk over to the 13-year-old section by myself, shaking my sore hand, and as I enter it I stare pointedly at the ground. Gia is in the 14-year-old section and Sky is in the 12-year-old section, so I'm by myself surrounded by strangers. District 6 is pretty large, and I go to a different school than the workers. Plus, I spend most of my schooling learning how to control a company, while the workers learn how to fix an engine or build wheels, and I'm not very social with people outside of my parents and two friends, so I don't know most of these children.

I quietly wait for our escort to grab the district's attention. I don't feel too awkward however around all of these unfamiliar kids, since most people, even friends, aren't talking because of their nervousness, and the air is stiff with tension already that I don't feel too pressured to start a conversation. What could I say, _hello, you probably took a mountain of tesserae, while I took none and am living in a house three times the size of yours?_ Most workers' children do not like people like me. My parents do want to pay the workers more, but the Capitol assigns the wages and the work hours, we just manage it.

What sounds like a coughing fit interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at the stage. I was not prepared for what I see. Our escort, Daphny Royan, has a large, beehive shaped wig the color of lemons curled atop her thin, small, pale pinhead. Her thin, wiry body was framed by a large circular dress, made of spirals of all the different existent colors, it seems. Her long, twig-like legs stuck out from the bottom of an emerald green spiral, but they weren't colorless like her face, neck, and arms, but the skin of her legs had been dyed a sickly orange. She wore shoes that seemed to sit on platforms a foot high, and sparkly gloves on her hands.

What sounds like a sickly cough was her clearing her throat to gather our attention. Every child's head snaps up to face her. The woman who chooses the two children who will die. Unless, of course, we have a District 6 Victor. I have enough hope that will happen, even if it hasn't happened recently.

"Hello, hello, District 6!" Daphny tries to purr into the microphone, but instead it comes out scratchy and almost too high frequency for even us children to hear.

Like always, Daphny's audience is not too responsive, so she sighs dramatically and very loudly into the microphone. After quickly adjusting her wig she gestures for the war video to be played. The supposed reason for the Hunger Games. I don't believe a word of it. Of how the Capitol treated us well and we just rebelled because we were greedy and power hungry. Of how this unjust game is _our_ fault.

I avert my eyes from the video, but finally it ends and Daphny coughs again, eager for our attention to be back on her, and then grins at us with what I notice with horror are sharp, golden teeth.

"Well, that was fascinating, yes, yes. Well, time for _me_ to reap two of you! One boy and one girl!_ I_ _am proud_ to be here representing District 6 to help escort two of your lovely children on their way to the games and on their way to Victory, with _my_ help of course!" Daphny shrills, and pounds her unusually large shoes on the stage as she marches over to the girls bowl. I cross my fingers tightly as she picks a name out and she grinds her teeth together in anticipation of reading the name.

_Not Sky, not Gia, not me, not even Sky's siblings. Please don't read any of our names, please, please..._

"Vienna Starr!"

No.

NO.

My mind turns into a frenzy as everyone around me turns to look at me, and my eyes dance to the screens around the square. They show me, and my shocked face, and the tears starting to form in my eyes.

I burst into tears, unable to contain it any longer. I can't be reaped. I'm only thirteen. I took no tesserae. I can not go into the Hunger Games. I'll die a second into the Bloodbath.

No, I can't go. _I'm going to die_.

A scream rips out of my throat, and I back away into the crowd behind me, flailing my arms at the other kids trying to push my forward.

"Get off! Get off! GET OFF!" I can hear the screeches and feel my mouth moving, but am I really making these inhuman sounds and am I really reaped? This isn't happening, it isn't...

Two strong arms grab me and pull me forward, and I peek to see a bulky peacekeeper dragging me to the stage. I sob and my vision blurs as I look at the bouncing ground beneath me that he's dragging me on.

I can feel my legs bumping roughly against the steps he's pulling me up to get onto the stage, and I yell loudly, struggling to get away, but he closes his hands tightly on my arms, causing me to whimper and stop.

I can feel being dropped on the stage beside Daphny. I quickly scramble up and blink away as many tears as I can, but my mouth is left gaping open as I can see the whole district staring at me, and my eyes scan over the largest amount of people I've ever faced. My shyness kicks in and I shut my mouth and wipe my nose with the back of my hand and stare hard at the floor of the stage. Everyone here knows that they won't be having a District 6 female Victor. Soon I'll be facing 23 others, and it scares me that it'll be even harder than facing this crowd and all of the Panem watching right now.

Miles Hatch (15) POV:

"Hey, at least we don't have to work today, right?" Hermes interrupts my thoughts, bumping his shoulder into mine.

"Yeah, well, I need that money. For food. And so my mother and I don't starve," I retort icily. "You need it too, for you and your family."

"Hey, lighten up dude," Hermes jokes, poking me.

"Ya, ya," I reply, and shake my shoulders. I needed to stay positive outside. Just keep the bad thoughts in. Although, it is easier ranting to Hermes. He is my only friend after all. And we've worked together since we were young. He understands my struggles. He's been through them too. But I'm over my past because it can't happen to me.

"Come on," he laughs, and I blink to find him snapping his fingers in my face. I laugh and swat him away, before calling back into my house for my mother. She stumbles out in a baggy, greying dress, and shoes riddled with holes, before pulling Hermes and I into a hug.

"Where's your mother and little Adelaide?" she questions him, her voice only shaking slightly. She is improving. I wish she would improve faster. I did.

"Oh, they went ahead to the square," he tells her, smiling brightly at her. The three of us walk down to the square, along with the throng of families doing the same. We're there soon, since we live near the square. Hermes' mother and little sister stand by the square's entrance, and we walk over to meet them. Our mothers hug and I grin down at little Adelaide, who's a mere six years old.

"That's a pretty little bow you got there, Addie," I grin at the girl, who insists on being called Addie because '_Adelaide is an old lady name!_' in her book.

She grins at me, and pats down the hair sticking up below her bright pink bow. "Thanks, Mills!" She still hasn't mastered my name somehow.

"And you look lovely today, Cecelia," I add to their mother.

"Oh, Miles, you're such a darling!" Hermes' mother exclaims, and I grin at her. "Now, we better get going, don't want to be late, come on kids," she frets, hoisting Adelaide into her arms, and gesturing us inside. My mother follows her, with a somewhat dazed expression on her face, and I sigh. Hermes and I make our way to the registration table, where we have to wait in a line so long that it seems to wrap around itself. We're early, like always, so the crowd is huge and the lines are longer, as all the worker children come early, afraid of not making it in time and being punished.

Hermes and I are pricked, and then I lead us to the 15-year-old male section. We wait quietly there for a good while, before our escort struts her way onto the stage. Hermes and I laugh loudly at her attire, because it is just ridiculous. Her wig must be taller than her, even with her heels on. She's dyed unnatural colors that I don't know why it is good fashion in the Capitol, and her dress looks like a colorful version of the reaping bowls, and doesn't suit her skinny body.

"Hello, hello, District 6!" Daphny addresses all of us, and most kids look scared. I know in the back of my mind I'm slightly scared, but she just looks so absurd, and I need to distract myself from the thought of two children being chosen to die. It's not like children don't die here anyways without being reaped. At least it's a slight chance to beat an obstacle and get something that might make life worthwhile.

Daphny sighs, fixes her wig in a very obvious way, and then gestures for the war video to start like every year.

I closely watch the video, and it's the same as last year. Piles of dead bodies, a bomb exploding, quick flashes of bloody wounds, skinny orphan children wandering around (which seems to have not changed in the present), and a message from our President being played during it explaining why we have the games. It doesn't do much to inflict fear upon me, but I can see other children visibly shaking.

"Well, that was fascinating, yes, yes. Well, time for _me_ to reap two of you!" I tune out what she says after that, knowing she's probably complimenting herself and stressing how important she is to the games in the next few sentences. And then she reaps the girl, which will probably be some nobody because there isn't many children everyone knows, esides for the daughters of the two main rival companies. I know one of the daughter's names is Gia, because her parents head the company I work for, and she's going to take over in decade or so. Otherwise, the girl tribute won't effect me. I'm not a girl, Hermes isn't, and there's no other twelve to eighteen year old I care about.

"Vienna Starr!" interrupts my thoughts, and my eyes shoot up to Daphny. Starr. That's the name of the owners of the other head company. So one of them did get reaped! I look at the big screens and see a small, frightened girl crying, and trying to back away. I groan at her screams. She's probably been spoiled to death all of her life. She's wearing heels and a new dress for god's sake! And now she's crying and screaming and throwing herself about like she's a little kid having a tantrum. I know that it's bad to be reaped, and she's so young that I feel bad that she's going to die, but honestly, what about all the kids that have died since their parents weren't payed enough to support their families?

The peacekeepers finally drag her onto the stage, and I do frown with pity. She looks so scared, and she's all alone up there. I can't help but feel slightly bad. But I need to forget about her after this. I don't have time to grieve. If she's smart she'll jump off her pedestal before times up to avoid getting brutally killed by Careers.

"And the boy tribute!" The boys look somehow even more scared about being reaped after the girl's outburst. Maybe because they see how bad that girl reacted to it, they know now that it's more serious, more real, and more scary than they imagined. Maybe it's because no one will sponsor a tribute of District 6 this year after seeing how weak the girl is. Unless the boy is too strong to pass up.

Daphny clears her throat, and tries to wrap her tongue around the boy's name. As long as it's not Hermes or I, then I won't care. Just don't be us.

"Miles Hatch!"

I freeze. Miles Hatch is me. Hermes' eyes flit over to me, scared, maybe for me or maybe because he's scared of what I'll do. That I'll take out my anger on a peacekeeper. That I'll go crazy.

But I've already got a grin on my face, and I bound easily up to the stage, waving a bit at the cameras. I quickly glance at a screen, and I know I'm doing good. You can see me, a tall, muscled, grinning boy, next to a snotty, in both ways, little scared girl.

I've spent my whole life protecting myself. Working hard, being athletic, getting food, making money, so that I don't turn out like my starved siblings and father. So that I survive, so my mother survives, so Hermes and his mother and sister survive. But it was all for nothing, because I might die anyways.

* * *

**Author's Note:** P.s. I'm so sorry that this took so long to get out. I did PM some of you saying I'd get it out in a couple of days, but a bunch of things came up. It was my friends huge birthday party first, then fan fiction . net was down (did anyone else experience that?), then a relative passed away and then I had to go to a different state for the funeral, and we stayed there for over a week after. The wifi there sucked and my mother didn't allow me to bring my computer so I couldn't get out another chapter. And throguh this all, I have about fifty school projects and huge tests coming up. And then when I was going to write more yesterday, my computer froze! I fixed it though, and then it froze again, and then I fixed it. I apologize for the lateness and I'll try to update sooner next time. Hope you liked it.


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